i speak gently, you're missing it, coop. we call her coop. short for her middle name cooper. she looks over and her eyes big and a perfect shade of sea green in the morning light. every day she asks, what color are my eyes today, mama? she has hazel eyes. the kind that change depending on what she's wearing and maybe how she's feeling, who can say.
i continue to point out a few of the things that are going on while she's focusing on that thing. the thing that took her to a place of discontentment. as the words roll off my tongue i feel a stirring in my own heart. a mirror of sorts.
it reaches to the young and old, alike.
thankfulness fills the void of discontentment. she is learning this lesson slowly, just like her mama. quietly she stares off and i wonder what she's thinking. i start to go inside and she asks me to stay a little longer, so i do. there are no words between us but we both know peace in the presence of those who love us in the midst of the ugly.
"man's happiness really lies in contentment"